


Home Sweet Home

by foolscapper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, hurt!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 04:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10236284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolscapper/pseuds/foolscapper
Summary: A short fic about the boys retiring to a cabin. Yep, that's it! No soul-crushing pain! My kind streak.





	

After Dean screwed up his leg, Sam practically had to drag him like a wet cat out of hunting; it’s not like didn’t understand how hard it was for him, or how much they could do out there — but Dean had finally brought it back up over a coffee and rubbery scrambled eggs at some generic chain of diners. “Look, the Bunker’s gone, and we paid out dues, and maybe… maybe you’re right. I don’t know.” And it gave Sam a dizzying relief while they went over Dean’s terms and conditions.

Dean’s over people. Sam can pick the place, but it needs to be green and close to lame country towns. Somewhere discreet. No dogs (he’ll keep bargaining him down to nothing on that). No birds, either (who even would want a bird, Dean). He tallies off a few notes about weather and tornadoes and all this other stuff, and… clearly he’s been thinking about this for a while.

“Okay. How about California?”

Dean huffs. “What, wanting to relive your glory days?”

“It’ll be quiet. We’ll find somewhere quiet. It might get hot, but if we get a place up in the mountains, past the grapevine or something…”

“Don’t they have forest fires?”

“… Seriously, you’re being picky now.”

But he knows why Dean worries about fires.

They pick somewhere quiet, though. It’s the easiest move ever, as it always is, because they’ve got two bags to their name, some old photos they kept on their person when the bunker went up in flames (Dean still mourns for those other pictures, Sam knows), and a few sets of clothing. Sam’s started to not bother with shaving, and maybe that works out; as he gets out of the Impala to peer out at the sunny trail ahead, he looks grizzled enough to be a part of the wildlife. So Dean says. 

Dean slips out of the passenger side of the Impala and enjoys the view — a cliff side with an awesome green canopy outstretched s’far as the eye can see. For a moment he looks at peace, and Sam can only find it within himself to smile at the sight. Dean leans heavy on his glinting crutch and whistles, listening to the echo. “I swear to god, if this place burns up, too…”

“Then we’ll go live in tornado alley, sure, sure,” Sam says.

“You’re way too unconcerned about this, dude,” Dean grumbles. “We lost our _home_. How the hell are we supposed to move on to sloppy seconds?”

“Because we’ve done it before. We’ll do it again.”

Sam’s very, very used to homes suddenly being yanked out from under him, like a rug. Dean looks at him as he looks out over all the greenery, studious, thoughtful. “… Yeah, alright. Let’s walk the rest of it.”

Sam looks at the crutch. Looks at Dean. He knows he’s not gonna be able to get all the way there without some major pain going on. He nods. “Sure thing, tortoise.”

“ _Hey_.” But Dean’s already hobbling down the trail.

By the time they get to the yellow-painted, sun-baked house, Sam’s got Dean on piggyback, the crutch abandoned, Sam sweating in the warm breeze. Dean had been adamant about being left behind until he got his knee reigned in, but now that Sam’s fervent bitching not to leave him behind has soaked in, Dean is all for pulling on Sam’s beard like it’s a horse’s reign.

“Giddy up, Sammy,” he huffs.

“I’m dumping you on the porch.”

“You’d never.“ 

“I’m doing it—”

“You’d feel too bad—” _**THUMP**_. “ _Ack_!!”

Well. Home sweet home, until the next one.


End file.
